Skyfall
by the-shy-invisible-one
Summary: Arthur and Alfred are spies for an international agency, keeping the world safe and everything running smoothly within the countries. But recently, an unknown agent has started a conspiracy that is gaining a significant force in the agency. The conspirator's main plan? Global domination. Props to tealgirl713 for her help. The story and I wouldn't exist without her.
1. Chapter 1

"Dammit Alfred, I told you to be more careful," Arthur hissed as his American companion fumbled with the doorknob, giving away their location. "They'll _definitely_ find us now," he continued, pulling Alfred further back into the large closet.

"If you'd shut up for five seconds we wouldn't be in this situation anyways," Alfred muttered, looking around for a possible way to escape. This was difficult, considering the only illumination in the closet came from the crack in the door. "Why did you choose a closet to hide in, anyway? It's so easy to get trapped in these things," Alfred grabbed the edge of a shelf, nearly tripping over the uneven floor, and a small opening appeared in the ceiling.

"Well isn't that convenient," Arthur whispered. "Give me a leg up."

Alfred was already on it, pushing the British man up and out of the closet and onto the roof of the old, abandoned building. Arthur reached down to pull Alfred up, just managing to lift him high enough to grab the edge of the opening, leaving Alfred to heave the rest of his body up and out. They ran and jumped off the roof, landing solidly on the ground and making a break for shelter in the Russian forest.

A shot from behind Alfred and Arthur made them flinch; turning around to see at least three people chasing after them with some sort of small gun that seemed unlikely to be able to hit either of them at this range. Still, they both got their handguns out and ducked into the trees, trying to lose them. They had been ordered not to kill anyone, no matter the circumstances. Possibly one of their greatest challenges yet. Get in, get out, no killing.

Alfred sighed, his finger twitching as it touched the trigger. Arthur looked over at him.

"I know what you're thinking, and you can't," he panted, running hard to keep up with Alfred's long legs. "They said we can't kill anyone on this mission."

"I know," Alfred said sadly, jumping over a log and landing silently, "but they're chasing after us with guns and it would be nice if we could just kill them and be done with it."

Arthur rolled his eyes, looking back at their nosy pursuers. "Is that your solution to everything? Just killing your problems?"

"Well, yeah, actually," Alfred laughed as they lost the three people chasing them in the tangle of trees.

"Until we know we've lost them, I'm climbing this tree," Arthur announced, proceeding to scale said tree and leaving Alfred to stare up at him from the ground.

"Why?" Alfred called up to Arthur, climbing up after him with a curious look on his face.

"So if they follow us, they won't even know we're here," Arthur explained, finding a good branch to sit on. Alfred sat on the opposite branch, admiring the view.

"What happens if they see us?" Alfred asked, his legs dangling in the cold air.

"Then we might be fucked, but who knows, maybe they can't climb trees," Arthur said quietly, glaring at Alfred's swinging legs. "Stop that, movement could give us away."

Alfred stuck his tongue out at Arthur and stopped. "What kind of international spy can't climb a tree?" Alfred retaliated, smirking slightly.

"An overweight one," Arthur shot back, referencing Alfred's less-than-healthy eating habits. Alfred looked hurt, but quickly got over it, opting for a swift kick to Arthur's shin instead.

"Hey, we're supposed to be allies, here," Arthur protested, raising his arms in surrender and nearly falling off his branch. Alfred caught his arm.

"You're right, fighting could end up with both of us falling out of this tree. We'd be so dead," Alfred said, looking down at the ground far, far below them.

"Thanks for that," Arthur murmured.

"For what?" Alfred inquired, smiling when Arthur shot him a look that said, "_Did you or__ did you not just save me_?" Alfred shifted, "You're welcome, Artie."

Arthur sighed, "Don't call me that, you git."

Alfred laughed, grabbing the tree trunk for support. "So when can we get out of here? This mission has quickly become pointless."

Arthur shrugged and looked at his watch. "If those Russians haven't given up looking for us, I would be _extremely _surprised," he said, slipping off the branch and climbing back down the tree. Alfred followed, trusting Arthur. He _was _his partner after all. Making minimal noise, they ran in the general direction of a clearing, then used the teleportation device Yao had invented just a few years ago as an addition to the watch all agents wore to get back to the base in Warsaw.

"Beam me up, Scotty," Arthur mumbled as he hit the button on his watch.

(A/N: Yao hasn't fixed all of the bugs in the teleportation device, including the one that causes all objects within a ten foot radius of yourself to teleport with you to wherever you're going.)

Promptly upon their arrival at the base in Warsaw, Feliks came running towards them.

"What on earth have you two done to your _clothes_?" he asked in horror, brushing some pine needles off Alfred's shoulder. "Just look at the _wrinkles,_" he continued, taking in Alfred and Arthur in turn to fully assess their uniforms.

"Feliks, honestly, we're spies, our clothes are going to get wrinkled," Arthur grumbled, surrendering to the fussy Polish man.

"I need you to take these off immediately so I can have them ironed," Feliks huffed, stepping back and frowning at the dirt smear on Alfred's chest. "You could have like, not rolled in filth, maybe."

"We aren't even that dirty," Alfred sighed, flicking a lingering pine needle off his shoulder and pulling one out of Arthur's hair, smiling as an eyebrow was raised at him. "What? It was bothering me."

"Alright, Feliks, we'll go change," Arthur said, dragging Alfred along with him to the laundry room where they could _hopefully _find something to wear. Knowing Feliks, there would be something.

The laundry room was an enormous room full of dryers, washers, and ironing tables as far as the eye could see. This _is _an international agency, after all, and Feliks insists all the agents look "fabulous" all the time. That would mean constant washing of their uniforms, leading Yao to come up with some special chemical to make the clothing more sturdy.

Alfred and Arthur were handed new uniforms in the appropriate size, replacing their various badges and sundry items from their pockets. They stripped quickly, Arthur straightening Alfred's collar, then walked out to report to them about their mission. A lift, several flights of stairs, and a secret passageway later, and they were at their destination. A blinking green light beckoned them in, the door sliding open as Alfred put his hand on the identification pad.

"Welcome, Agent Jones, Agent Kirkland," the machine acknowledged, letting them through the door and into the room beyond.

"So, how did it go?" Gilbert asked, clicking his pen on his desk and waiting expectantly.

"Well, we managed not to kill any of them, anyway," Alfred said, sitting in one of the chairs across from Gilbert.

"Good," Gilbert said happily, jotting something down on a sticky note.

"But we're pretty sure they're gonna be pissed off we got away," Arthur added, crossing his arms on his chest and sitting stiffly in his chair.

"Of course they will," Gilbert laughed. "Anyone would be frustrated that two spies infiltrated their system and got away. Unscathed, nonetheless."

"I wouldn't say unscathed," Alfred said, "I nearly broke my finger getting out of that closet."

"Smooth," Arthur smirked, thinking back to what they had found out about the Russian conspirators.

"Did you guys find out anything important?" Gilbert questioned, fiddling a misplaced piece of hair that fell in his face.

"Ivan isn't leading them," Alfred told him.

"They're definitely planning a mass attack, probably- no, definitely on the base in Moscow within the next couple of weeks. Massive casualties. From what I heard, they're more interested in decreasing our numbers than actually taking out the high-ranks," Arthur blurted as Gilbert jotted down notes.

"_Danke, _Agent Kirkland," Gilbert nodded, folding up his notes and sticking them in his chest pocket. "Your information will be very useful. As for you, Agent Jones," Gilbert continued, "at least you got Ivan in the clear. You both may leave; get some rest or something, would you?"

Alfred opened his mouth to protest but Arthur glared at him, taking him by his shirt and dragging him back out of the room. "He knows you are just as valuable as I am, he's just trying to mess with you," Arthur said as the door slid closed again and they made their way back down the secret passageway. "Don't let it get to you."

Alfred sighed, attempting to smooth down his unruly cow-lick. To his irritation, it sprung right back up no matter what he did with it. Arthur had the same problem with his eyebrows; he had tried everything short of shaving them off, fearing they would grow in even thicker than before.

"What's next?" Arthur asked Alfred, noticing the yawn that was stifled from the American.

"A nap," Alfred said, smiling at the incredulous look on Arthur's face.

"Really, Alfred? A nap?" Arthur shook his head, "You git," he murmured, laughing slightly.

"ALL HEROES MUST HAVE NAPS, ARTIE!" Alfred exclaimed loudly, startling his companion.

"Okay, Alfred. A nap it is, and don't call me that," Arthur sighed, not being able to believe how much of an idiot his partner was. Alfred smiled happily, stopping Feliks in the hallway to ask where the nearest and cheapest hotel could be found.

"I already have a room for you, at this address," Feliks said, handing Arthur a slip of paper. "Gilbert told me in advance you would have some down time," he explained. "Just tell the girl at the front desk that you love pink and purple ponies and she'll show you where you can crash."

"Dude, thanks a lot," Alfred said, examining the address to see if he knew where it was.

"Yes, thank you Feliks," Arthur said, leading Alfred to the parking garage and grabbing their designated keys from the long line of painstakingly organized wall hangers. Alfred slid zombie-like into the seat of their car as Arthur revved the engine. Sooner than Alfred could have imagined, they had reached their destination.

Arthur followed Feliks' instructions and they found themselves in what might have been considered the penthouse of the hotel, though it had no actual floor button in the lift. It was accessed only by a key, which the girl from the front desk wore around her neck. She opened the door for them, then left them to their own devices.

Alfred walked into the room and crashed on the bed farthest from the door, noticing the stuffed hamburger conveniently placed on his bed-side table.

"Look, Arthur," Alfred said sleepily, "a hamburger."

"I see it, Alfred. Go to bed so I can read," Arthur scanned the shelves of books that ran along the room. Clearly someone is very delusional about the amount of down time the spies in this agency have. Alfred settled in for his nap, finally falling silent.

A certain book caught Arthur's eye, though he had already read the entire collection. Several times, in fact. Arthur picked up The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, opening it carefully and sitting down on his own bed to read it.

"Iggy," came the whisper from Alfred's bed. Arthur sighed.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes.

"Umm... never mind," Alfred laughed and fell silent again.

"Wanker," Arthur muttered, getting lost in the world of Sherlock.

Alfred woke several hours later, noticing Arthur laying down with his book over his face. Smiling, Alfred removed the book and brushed the side of Arthur's face, sure that the intimate contact would startle him awake.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" Arthur mumbled, swatting away Alfred's hand.

"Waking you up," Alfred said, "we have to... well, we probably have to go do something now."

"Probably," Arthur sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, yawning. "I seriously regret not getting the full two hours of sleep."

"You'll be fine," Alfred said, replacing the book in the bookshelf. Arthur nodded in agreement, splashing some cold water on his face in the bathroom.

Alfred's phone began to ring. He looked at the contact, a picture of Francis popping up on the screen. Sighing, Alfred pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"_Bonjour_, Agent Jones, could you hand the phone to Arthur?" Francis's voice came through the phone.

"Why, is something wrong?" Alfred asked, noticing Arthur in the bathroom worrying over his eyebrows.

"Non, just hand him the phone," Francis said impatiently, becoming irritated much more quickly than usual.

"Dude, Iggy, Francis wants to speak with you," Alfred said, interrupting Arthur staring at himself in the mirror with discontent.

"Don't call me that... that bloody frog, this better be something good," Arthur muttered, taking the phone from Alfred. "What do you want?"

"Ah, _salut, _Arthur. I just wanted to tell you, the Russians have your cell phone," Francis blurted.

"They _what?!" _Arthur exclaimed, "You can't be serious," he continued, patting his pockets and searching around the room.

"_Oui, _it seems that when Antonio tried to reach you earlier, one of them answered the phone and-" a string of curses came from Arthur's end of the line. Francis began to laugh. "Ohonhonhon, non, I am just joking, of course," Francis finished.

"Git," Arthur spat, ending the call and giving the phone back to Alfred. "Call my phone, would you?"

Alfred obliged, remaining silent as Arthur pillaged the room, throwing pillows and blankets everywhere. Eventually he found it resting on top of the stuffed hamburger Alfred had so kindly placed on Arthur's bed side table. He picked it up, shoving it back into his pocket.

"Just imagine the Russians getting their hands on it," Arthur said quietly, running a hand through his hair.

"That would be very bad," Alfred said, his stomach rumbling.

"Shall we eat?" Arthur asked, smoothing some hair away from his face and opening the door into the hallway. Alfred nodded his consent, following Arthur to the lift. The doors slid open noiselessly and the two agents stepped in.

"Lobby?" a voice came from behind them, startling them both as they hadn't noticed anyone in the lift when they had first entered it. They turned to see a short, blonde boy with an odd looking hat on. The boy smiled cheerfully as he noticed Arthur staring.

"You can't possibly be-" Arthur started, recognizing the boy at last.

"Peter Kirkland?" the boy asked with an even wider smile, the lift doors sliding closed.

"It is you, then," Arthur said in wonder, reaching a hand out to touch Peter as if he couldn't believe he was real.

"What's going on?" Alfred demanded, not used to going so long without being the center of attention. Arthur and Peter continued to ignore him, staring back at each other before Arthur processed the situation.

"But... how? Why are you here?" Arthur finally managed to ask.

"Simple. I wanted to be useful," Peter said stiffly, picking up a briefcase that had been sitting at his feet. "This contains important documents I was ordered to deliver to Ivan in Moscow," Peter continued. The lift opened with a _bing _and an electronic announcement of "lobby" as the three agents filed out, Alfred in the lead.

"Will we see you later?" Alfred asked Peter, trying to make out what the small embroidery on his hat said.

"Absolutely," Peter answered, swinging his briefcase as he walked away.

"Dude, who was that?" Alfred interrogated.

"That," Arthur said, "is my younger brother."


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Arthur and Alfred found themselves in Antonio Carriedo's office at the base in Madrid.

"Agent Kirkland, Agent Jones, I'm so glad you could make it," Antonio said, straightening up a pile of papers and sticking them in a folder labeled "Important Documents". Alfred was literally itching to get his hands on it.

"Why exactly, are we here?" Arthur asked, brushing a finger across the dusty desk. Antonio never had been one for keeping his desk clean.

"Well, you see, Agent Kirkland, we've been having reports of computer hacking from citizens all across the world, and all of our researchers tell us that when they try to trace it, it sends them right back here. Furthermore, the hacker gains full control of the computer, potentially over-running entire countries or governmental systems."

"So, we're going to find out who's doing it?" Alfred asked, trying to make Antonio get to the point.

"Precisely," Antonio smiled, handing him the documents. "You will be transported to the base in Hong Kong immediately, where Kaoru is waiting. You will interrogate him first." Antonio then handed them the plane tickets.

"Wow, Hong Kong! I've never been there before!" Alfred exclaimed excitedly, tugging on Arthur's right arm. Arthur narrowed his eyes, examining the tickets.

"It says we leave in two hours," Arthur muttered, sticking the tickets in his coat pocket.

"Better hurry up," Antonio said, ushering them out of his office and shutting the door behind them.

"Well, damn," Alfred said. "Lucky we are skilled in the art of packing quickly, huh?"

"Definitely," Arthur replied, hurrying down the hallway and pushing the button for the lift rather violently. Alfred tapped his foot impatiently and boarded the lift as the doors slid open, pushing the button for the first floor and looking over at Arthur.

"What?" Arthur asked, returning the gaze.

"Nothing," Alfred said, focusing his attention on the stainless steel doors in front of him. The rest of the lift ride was spent in silence.

Arthur and Alfred hurried out into the sunny Madrid day, squinted at the streets lined with colorful houses and tourists in swimming trunks and bathing suits.

"Which way to the hotel again?" Arthur asked, turning around to see Alfred ogling a Spanish flamenco street performer. Arthur rolled his eyes, tapping Alfred on the shoulder to get his attention. The American turned around.

"Sorry dude, what was that?" Alfred asked, smirking as Arthur scowled at him.

"We haven't the time for this, Alfred. I asked you where the hotel is," Arthur said, a hint of a smile forming on his lips as Alfred looked down the left side of the street, then the right.

"Pretty sure it was to the left," Alfred said, waiting for Arthur's approval.

"I thought so as well," he confirmed, heading in that direction. Alfred nodded and followed Arthur down the crowded street, weaving in and out of the stereotypical tourists with phones in their faces, taking pictures of street merchants and the sun beating down on the backs of two international spies making their way to their hotel to pack their bags.

Alfred and Arthur finally made it to the hotel, dashing up the stairs and retrieving their bags, Alfred throwing everything in haphazardly with a disapproving Arthur shaking his head at the disorganization.

"Feliks would have a fit," Arthur commented. "Just look at those wrinkles." Alfred shrugged and zipped up his suitcase, going on one last walk-through of the hotel room.

"Looks like that's everything, now we better hurry or we'll miss our flight," Alfred said, running downstairs to check out. Arthur followed close behind, nearly knocking over an old woman standing in the lobby. He quickly apologized and calculated how much time they had left until the flight left. Not enough, he finally decided.

Arthur and Alfred ran down the sidewalk to the airport, and made it through security just in time to catch the last boarding call for their flight to Hong Kong. As they sat down in their seats, they both let out a sigh of relief and prepared for the sixteen and a half hour flight.

By the six hour mark, Alfred felt as if he would lose his mind. There was a kid behind him that kept kicking his seat, sending his abdomen into the tray in front of him which at one point held diet coke and half a hamburger he made Arthur share with him. At first Arthur had refused, but Alfred knew he hadn't eaten anything all day so he insisted on Arthur eating something, even if it was a "disgusting piece of rubbish", as Arthur called it.

You would think that after nearly three years of being an international spy, Alfred would be used to long flights, but he never was known to be a very patient person. Around four hours into the flight an infant a few rows back and to the right had started crying incessantly; on and off for the past two hours now. Some of the people seated around Arthur and Alfred were starting to lose their shit, including the agents themselves.

"Just ten more hours until we can get off this metallic prison," Alfred murmured in Arthur's ear. Arthur nodded, paying more attention to the airing of a popular British television show the two of them were borderline obsessed with called Sherlock. This particular episode happened to be the first episode of the second season, as the plane had already aired all three episodes of the season before. This episode was called "A Scandal in Belgravia." Alfred rested his head on Arthur's shoulder and Arthur looked down at him as if to say, "What the hell are you doing?" then accepted the contact, leaning against Alfred so they were even. It was a bit awkward and they got some stares from the passengers around them, but they were too absorbed in Sherlock to care.

They were so into Sherlock, actually, that they gasped at all the unexpected things, even though they had seen this episode countless times, and smiled at the Johnlock adorableness. They watched the next two episodes, as well, and both of them teared up at the end of "The Reichenbach Fall". They fell asleep still leaning on each other and woke up just before they landed in Hong Kong.

Since they had left at approximately two o'clock in the afternoon from Madrid, they arrived in Hong Kong at six in the morning after nearly an entire day of flying. They had missed an entire day due to travel. Arthur had to wake up a disgruntled and hungry Alfred, who wasn't happy at all about the sixteen hour flight. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he learned they still had about fifteen minutes of waiting to do before they could actually get off the plane.

"I hate traveling," Alfred complained, playing with the latch on his tray.

"It'd be best if you get used to it, Alfred," Arthur said, hands folded in his lap. He looked very professional. Alfred sighed and waited for the noise that told them they could finally take their seatbelts off. Since they were international agents, they would get to depart the plane first. The perks of international government service.

Alfred and Arthur grabbed their suitcases and walked off the plane quickly, going straight to the baggage claim where they found Kaoru waiting for them patiently.

"你好, Agent Kirkland, Agent Jones," Kaoru said. (A/N: I'm having Kaoru speak "simplified" Chinese. What he says sounds like "nee-how" and means hello)

"Hello, Kaoru," Arthur said, bowing slightly. Alfred was dead on his feet and unable to do anything but keep himself from complaining about his cramped legs.

"How was your flight?" Kaoru asked, beginning to walk in the direction of the car he had waiting for them.

"Long," Alfred mumbled, dragging his suitcase along behind him. Kaoru smiled slightly and took both of their bags, setting them in the trunk of the car and climbing into the passenger seat.

"Who's driving?" Arthur asked curiously, hopping in the backseat and scooting over to the far right. (A/N: In Hong Kong, they drive on the left side.)

"This is my friend Ya," Kaoru said, "Ya, this is Agent Kirkland, and this is Agent Jones," Kaoru introduced them, pointing at Arthur and Alfred in turn.

"Hello, Ya," Arthur said politely, reaching out a hand for him to shake.

"I don't mean to be rude, but if we don't move this car now we could get a parking ticket," Ya said, buckling his seat belt and starting the car. Arthur retracted his hand and laughed awkwardly.

"Of course," Arthur said, feeling foolish. He proceeded to buckle his seat belt as well, looking over to make sure Alfred had done the same. "Alfred, put your seat belt on," Arthur said exasperatedly.

"Why should I?" Alfred asked childishly, sticking his tongue out at Arthur.

"Are you really doing this right now? We're supposed to be professional." Arthur sighed.

"Being professional is boring," Alfred said in retaliation, buckling his seat belt despite earlier protestations.

"Thank you," Arthur said, turning his head to look out at the lights of early morning Hong Kong.

"I'm not normally one for conversation," Kaoru began, "but I'm curious: how long have you two been partners?"

"Ever since Alfred got into the agency," Arthur said, "which was three years ago. Almost exactly three years ago, actually."

"Oh really? That's not so long compared to other duos. I believe Agent Honda and Agent Wang have been with the agency since it started. Then again, I could be wrong..." Kaoru trailed off.

"Dude, you're scaring me with your chattiness," Alfred said.

"True, I think you've talked more in the past five minutes than you have the rest of the time I've known you," Arthur said thoughtfully. Kaoru shrugged.

"I guess it's because Ya is here," he said, "I'm always a lot more talkative around him." Ya made a noise of approval, concentrating on the road.

"Could be," Alfred agreed, admiring the sunrise in the distance. It had a kind of quality about it he hadn't experienced with any other sunrise, like it was the beginning of a whole new existence and the world had been reborn. Arthur was staring out at the reflections of said sunset on the black glass buildings, watching the billboards flash different hues of the same reds, oranges, pinks, and purples.

Finally, after a long and awkward silence, Ya pulled up to a very large building with red stone dragons on either side of the entry way.

"Here we are," Ya said, parking in front of one of the red stone dragons and pushing the button for the car's trunk to open. Alfred and Arthur went around to grab their suitcases.

"Since we don't have an official agency headquarters in Hong Kong yet, for all intents and purposes we hold our meetings here," Kaoru explained, stepping through the automatic doors. Alfred and Arthur trailed behind him, the wheels of their respective suitcases squeaking on the white tile floors. Ya followed close behind them, handing the keys to a man dressed in a black suit with a name tag that Arthur couldn't quite make out.

Alfred and Arthur were assigned their room and told to report to room the next door for a live chat with Gilbert. He would give them their instructions for the interrogation. Kaoru and Ya had left them to their own devices back in the lobby, claiming they "have other issues to attend to".

Alfred examined the room key, wondering if it worked for both doors or if someone was waiting inside the adjacent room for them.

"We have about fifteen minutes until the chat with Gilbert," Arthur said, fiddling with his watch and synchronizing it with the alarm clock on the night stand. In this hotel room, they had only been given one bed. Alfred wondered how they were going to work that out later that evening. "At the rate we're going, I'm going to wear the hands of my watch out," Arthur commented.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked, snapping his head away from the partially open window.

"All this continent-hopping really takes its toll on my watch," Arthur explained, twisting it so it fit correctly on his wrist.

"You could get a new one," Alfred said nonchalantly, pulling back the blinds to let the early sun stream in.

"But I like this watch," Arthur huffed, laying back on the bed. Alfred laid down beside him, watching him intently. "What in the name of Queen Elizabeth are you doing?"

"Relaxing," Alfred replied, trying not to lose his poker face and failing miserably.

"I see, but don't you have your own- oh," Arthur realized there was only one bed.

"Now you've caught on," Alfred chuckled nervously.

"There isn't even a couch or anything..." Arthur said, looking around the small room; very devoid of other sleeping arrangements other than the queen sized bed.

"Sleeping on the floor is going to be hell," Alfred said sadly, eying the carpet.

"I... I suppose we can share the bed," Arthur said, "but for now we'll have to go next door so Gilbert can explain our task in more detail, since apparently Antonio didn't do a good enough job."

"Yeah, I don't know how that worked out," Alfred mumbled, already regretting leaving the bed. Alfred put the room key in the slot and opened the door to an empty room with a computer. A small pop up box had Gilbert's always-impatient image on it making faces to pass the time.

"Ah, good, you're here," Gilbert said, noticing the two agents' presence.

"Yes, we are," Arthur said, sitting in one chair at the desk and leaving the other for Alfred.

"I suppose you heard I was going to tell you about the interrogation," Gilbert divulged, his eyes staring at Arthur and Alfred in turn through the computer screen.

"Yes, that is what we were told," Arthur replied.

"That was a lie," Gilbert stated simply.

"A lie? What do you mean?" Alfred asked, blinking curiously.

"Happy April Fools!" Gilbert yelled, cackling as Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Gilbert, it's not anywhere _near _April," Arthur sighed, putting his face in his palm.

"Yeah dude, what's up with that?" Alfred said, slightly irritated. He was starting to get a headache. Gilbert continued to laugh.

"You guys, you look so irritated," Gilbert choked out between bouts of laughter.

"Well yeah, we're dead tired and you wouldn't believe the jet lag crossing two continents creates," Alfred snapped, rubbing his temples with his thumbs.

"Ah well, you're free to go now," Gilbert dismissed them, signing out of the chat. Arthur sighed.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Arthur said, turning the computer off and getting out of the his chair.

"You could say that again," Alfred grumbled, still holding his head.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, concerned.

"I'll be fine," Alfred assured him.

"I could give you some pain ki-"

"No," Alfred interrupted him, "I don't need pain killer for a stupid headache."

"As your partner, the one who has to put up with your mood, I demand that you take pain killer," Arthur said as they re-entered their hotel room.

"Fine," Alfred stuck his tongue out at Arthur.

"Good," Arthur smiled, digging the pills out of his suitcase and handing them to Alfred with a glass of water. "Just take one." Alfred popped one into his mouth and downed it with a large gulp of water, then closed the curtains he had opened earlier, sitting down on the bed. Arthur sat beside him, wondering what had brought on Alfred's headache. Perhaps it had been all the noisy children on the plane, but Alfred usually wasn't one to be bothered by noise. He was, after all, quite noisy himself.

Alfred slid his shoes off and chucked them across the room, unbuttoning his shirt as well.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Arthur asked in alarm.

"Stripping for you, obviously," Alfred said sarcastically, smirking as he took his shirt off.

"Umm, apparently," Arthur suppressed his laughter. After Alfred had taken all his uncomfortable clothes off. (i.e. shoes, socks, shirt) he got under the covers and laid down to sleep off his jet lag.

"Won't you join me, Artie?" Alfred asked, looking up at the British man still sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Don't call me that," Arthur said seriously, "and sure, why not?" Arthur laid down with Alfred after his shoes joined Alfred's on the other side of the room, and suddenly they became aware of just how unbearably hot it was in the hotel room.

"Please tell me there's air conditioner in here," Alfred's muffled voice came from under the sheets. Arthur had thrown them over him in his quest for some way of cooling the room down.

"Alas, there is!" Arthur exclaimed, turning the knob so the cold air would blast into the room.

"Hurray!" came Alfred's muffled cheer, "until then, can we just use the sheet?" Alfred asked as Arthur laid back down. Arthur nodded, pushing the covers off of Alfred and onto the floor.


End file.
